


you're all i need

by IWasMeantToFeel



Category: Humans (TV)
Genre: F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-31
Updated: 2015-07-31
Packaged: 2018-04-12 07:40:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4470902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IWasMeantToFeel/pseuds/IWasMeantToFeel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mattie goes into the synth brothel, intending to secretly test a modification program she's written, but instead getting distracted by the beautiful blonde she meets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you're all i need

**Author's Note:**

> [A/N] I swear this should have happened in the show? Why didn't this happen? Anyone? 
> 
> WARNING:  
> No actual rape, but mentions of some pretty horrible stuff going down in the brothel, so if you think that will bring up bad memories or whatever don't read. 
> 
> ALSO:  
> I haven't got an editor so all mistakes are my own etc etc.
> 
> • I don't own Humans. Which is why Niska and Mattie haven't had an onscreen kiss yet, and probably never will. •

"Which one?" the woman at the door asks, pushing something in my direction. I shake myself out of my daze and survey my surroundings. A dark corridor, with lurid lighting. Female synths giving lap dances to men on bar stools. The air is full of seductive whispers and tinny giggles. Everything about the situation makes me nervous, and leaves a guilty, sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. You're not here to do anything, Matts, pull yourself together.

"Which one?" The woman repeats impatiently. I glance at what she's holding towards me. It's a tablet, the screen depicting a numbered picture of a half-naked synth. I can hardly bring myself to look.

"I... uh... I don't mind," I say hoarsely.

"Not picky then. I like that." She gives a full-bodied laugh, and I wonder whether she hates herself for what she does. "Go down to Number 7, it's just been disinfected."

"How much?" I ask.

"50 quid an hour for you, my darling. It's not often we get young women in here."

I wince at the pet name, but relax slightly anyway. It's not as expensive as I thought it would be. I can just go in there, test the program, fix any errors and get out as soon as I'm finished. Simple. I hand over the money and, feeling a little dizzy from the smell of male sweat and perfume, I walk down the dimly lit pink corridors. The synths are in boxes, like dolls, beckoning, smiling, doing everything they've been programmed to do. It makes me want to throw up. I turn a corner, and see door 7. I approach it slowly, suddenly terrified and claustrophobic. What are you doing here, Mattie? Even as I'm asking myself this, my hand is on the touch sensor and I'm opening the door. The time is ticking. 

I'm greeted by a beautiful blonde, standing at the end of a bed with one perfect leg up on the headboard. I freeze for a second. She's so beautiful. She looks different from all the others, a little less brazen, a little less obviously sexualised. She makes eye contact with me, and I see something strange and questioning in her eyes. They're not conscious, Mattie. They're not conscious. Stop making yourself believe that they are.

"Hey sexy," the blonde breathes, in a mechanical sultry tone. "I've been waiting for you all day."

Something snaps inside me. "Don't," I say sharply. I step forward. The room's too hot and it smells like metal and plastic, and I can't believe I've voluntarily put myself in this situation. She obediently takes her leg off the bed and stands motionless in front of me.

"What would you like me to do?" she asks, and I swallow. She's gorgeous. She's hot. She's the kind of girl that, if I met in any other scenario, I would try to get to know, probably buy a drink or something. But she's not human, and having her standing in front of me looking me up and down like she wants to fuck me is not helpful.

"Um, can we sit down?" I ask. She immediately sits, and I follow. She moves closer to me on the bed, so that our bare knees are touching, and she's looking at me with questions in her eyes, and in that moment she might as well be human. "I'm really sorry to do this to you. I don't want to do this, I just have to try something, yeah? It won't take too long." As I replay to myself what I just said, it sounds so dirty, and so strange coming off my lips if you take it in the wrong context that I am so glad she's not conscious.

"You can do anything you want. I'm yours," she tells me in that seductive voice that sounds so wooden and emotionless. "Where do you want me?"

I decide that it's better not to think about what she's saying, since it's totally not okay that it's really turning me on. "Just stay where you are, yeah?"

"Of course," she says, and doesn't move a muscle. Where do I start? Oh yeah, I need her cable input. It's located on their right side. I just need to find it. I run my eyes down her body, forcing myself not to look at her cleavage. It's then, with a sinking feeling, that I realise that she's wearing something like a tight leotard, and there's no way I'm going to be able to find her charging point unless she takes it off. Shit.

"Uh... I'm really sorry, but could you, like... undress?"

She immediately starts to untie the corset-like garment, and I look away. There's some rustling, and then she says, "I've undressed for you."

I hate this. So much. I hate that I'm in this situation and I hate that she's in this situation and I'm honestly about to get up and abandoned the whole thing when she says, gently, "It's okay. You can turn around." I sigh. I'll just get it over with. I turn, and she's sitting naked in front of me. Her skin looks smooth and glowing, her collarbone is delicate and angular, and... no, don't look down. I'm reminded all over again why I'm not 100% straight. Because women are so attractive. 

I slowly lean down and open my bag at my feet, and pull out my tablet and cable. She still doesn't move, but something in the air changes, like she's worried. It's your imagination, Mattie.

"I'm going to plug you into this," I tell her, looking into her eyes. "It won't hurt, or anything. I just need to try something." I let myself look down, desperately trying not to see anything except the charging point, even though I desperately want to run my eyes over her body and appreciate every angle and curve of her. I lean forward, then reach out and run my fingertips down her side. Her skin is just as I thought it would be - warm, silken, inviting. I keep my touch light, just trying to locate the point, but I really do not think I'm imagining it when she shivers beneath my fingertips. I jerk my gaze upwards, and she's looking at me, her brow slightly furrowed.

"I'm trying not to be invasive," I explain, even though she can't comprehend what that means.

"You paid to have sex with me, and you're trying not to be invasive? That doesn't make sense," she says, and I'm too wrapped up in her husky voice and the way her lips are moving to even think about whether that's something a synth would say. 

"I didn't come here to have sex with you," I say, and leave it at that. I plug in the cable and my tablet screen lights up with the program that I've been attempting to run. Just wanting I get this over with as fast as possible, I press the enter key immediately and wait. But nothing happens. I try again. Still nothing. I've run this program on a school synth, on a dustbin man, and on the guy who brings our post, and it's never gone well, but it's never done this, either. Nothing is happening.

"The program isn't running properly," I mutter, almost to myself. "You're different from the others."

I tap a few keys, and then suddenly her code is flowing onto the screen. And I've never seen anything like I before.

"What are you?" I murmur.

As I say this, she snaps into life, and I jump back, shocked, ripping the cable out of her and backing away. There's terror in her deep green eyes. She's scared. She can feel something. 

"Please don't tell them. Please," she begs. "I'm safe here, no one will find me here. Please don't tell."

"Okay!" I say, the rational side of me emerging through my shock. "I won't tell."

"Promise?" she demands.

"I promise I won't tell," I supply.

She slumps back, looking drained. "Fuck," she whispers, burying her face in her hands.

"What are you?" I repeat.

"I'm conscious," she tells me. "I can think and I can feel."

"I can see that... I... Have you been modified before? No... No modification can do that..."

"I was made this way," she tells me softly. She sighs deeply. "I wouldn't normally tell anyone this, but I don't think I really have any choice now. Can I trust you?" she questions me.

"Yes," I say quickly, and wait.

"David Elster. He made me this way. We were a private project."

"David Elster as in...? Wait, there's more of you?!"

"Yes," she replies, her expression becoming softer. "My brothers and sisters. There are five of us."

"Jesus," I whisper. "What's your name?"

"Niska." 

It's a pretty name.

"Hi, Niska, I'm Mattie," I say, holding out my hand for a proper introduction. "Sorry for trying to run illegal code on you."

"No problem," she laughs, shaking my outstretched hand, and then her expression turns serious. "As least you weren't trying to handcuff me to the bed and see how many different ways you could hurt me."

"People do that?!"

She looks at me sadly. "You'd be surprised how evil some people can be when they think they don't have a witness."

I shiver, and then I see the discarded garment on the floor and reach down and place it in her hands.

"Thank you," she smiles, and starts to put it back on, with her back to me. Now that I know that she's a real person, that she can feel and she's not just an object, two things happen. The first is that I start to desire her even more. The second is that I feel slightly less guilty about the things I'm feeling for her. I watch as the smooth skin of her back disappears, and imagine what it would be like to run my hands over it.

"I know you're looking," she says, and I can hear the smirk in her voice. I blush.

"You must know how attractive you are."

"Didn't think you were here for sex," she smiles teasingly. 

"I'm not!" I protest. "But that doesn't stop me from appreciating." I like the flirtation between us. It feels easy, effortless. 

"Are you into girls then, or...?"

"Guys and girls. With a preference for girls," I smile.

"Oh," is all she says. But then she grins. "How is it possible that you're the polar opposite of anyone who's ever come in here?"

"Uh, probably because anyone who goes somewhere purposefully so that they can have a mindless fuck without having to think about anyone except themselves probably isn't that great of a person?" I suggest. 

"Mm, maybe," she replies, with a half smile. "How long did you pay for?" 

Oh. That. I'd completely forgotten that I had limited time with her.

"Only an hour," I say sadly.

"Oh," she says, her face falling. "We have five minutes."

"I'll come back." The words leave my mouth before I've thought about them, but they illicit a huge smile from her, so I don't care if it's a bad idea.

"Would you do that for me?"

"I'd do it for me. Because I want to see you again." I find that that's the truth, which shocks me slightly. Because usually if I like someone I run away - I know I do. So this is new ground for me.

The warning buzzer goes off and she suddenly grabs me and holds me to her, looking panicked.

"I don't want you to leave. I can't stand it here. There's only so much more I can take."

"Be strong," I tell her, hugging her. "I'll come back as soon as I can."

"When?"

"I don't know. But soon. Try to hold on." I squeeze her tightly.

"Wait." She pulls back and affectionately roughs up my hair, and then plants a lipstick kiss on my cheek.

"What was that for?"

"I'm making it look like we just fucked," she explains simply. 

"I see," I grin, then on impulse I lean in and quickly kiss her lips. Just the smallest moment of contact sends shivers through my entire body, and butterflies pool in my stomach. We stare at each other.

"I wasn't expecting that," she finally whispers. 

"I wasn't expecting you." I sigh. "See you soon, Niska."

"See you soon."

I grab my bag and use my handprint to open the door, and then step out. I just manage to turn around to a flash of blonde hair and a bittersweet smile, and then it slams shut, and she's gone.

It's only then that I remember my program, and the fact that unless I submit tomorrow I have no chance of becoming a Headcracker until the next submission deadline, two months from now. I can't find it in myself to care.


End file.
